


Destinations

by Kaelie



Category: NSYNC
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-30
Updated: 2011-10-30
Packaged: 2017-10-25 02:09:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/270562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaelie/pseuds/Kaelie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Justin is going places.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Destinations

He'd been dreaming of stardom since he was old enough to dream. Dreams of music, of stages, of fans and fame and fortune. As he approached adulthood such dreams seemed increasingly close to being in his grasp, and he dreamed of other things as well. Slightly more complex dreams. Dreams of security, of independence, of artistic freedom, of love.

He wasn't afraid to work for his dreams, and he'd been raised to be secure in the certainty that he was one of the lucky ones, one of those whose dreams would always come true. He'd cruised through most of his life on that confidence. It had only recently occurred to him that the actions of others were beyond his influence and control. Only recently had it occurred to him that he might not get what he most wanted.

~ ~ ~ ~

The alarm went off with an ear piercing clatter, but he'd been awake for most of the night, waiting for it.

He checked the time by walking out into the living room, to look at the electric clock on the mantle of the little fireplace. The clock in his room was an old wind up model, and didn't keep accurate time. He kept it because it was the only alarm loud enough to guarantee waking him up. In his current state of mind, he couldn't remember if his clock was fast or slow.

The living room clock informed him that it was just after 8:30 in the morning, and that was later than he'd planned but still plenty of time, really. He chewed his bottom lip, considering. He needed to eat, to take a shower, to make some final decisions about what to wear. For what felt like the millionth time he calculated how long it would take him to ride the bus across town to the diner where they were meeting, and weighed the possibilities against asking his mom to drive him. He didn't want to be late, and the local bus system was notoriously unreliable. It was important that he not keep JC waiting, but it wouldn't do to be too early either. It might be better to ask his mom for a ride.

But he cringed at the picture that conjured. Pulling up to the restaurant, and his mother dropping him off in front of it. That was horrific enough, but what if she wanted to come in, say hello? What if she was invited to stay? JC had always been really polite to his mom. No, he needed to prevent that. It would have to be the bus.

Alright then. He'd cut out a bus schedule from the newspaper yesterday, after making the telephone call. He thought it was in his backpack, but a quick look through the pockets failed to produce it. He looked around on his dresser, his night stand, but didn't see it. He paused for a moment, trying to remember where he'd put it, and eyed the two cassette tapes on his dresser. He needed to remember to bring those too, in case he could persuade JC to listen to them. They were rough, just he and Chris, harmonizing and trying things out, but they were a good place to start. He picked them up and put them next to his backpack.

Or maybe he shouldn't bring the backpack. He really didn't need to bring that much stuff. If he wore his jeans jacket he could just put the tapes in his pocket. That would look more casual. Casual would be really good, especially since he was afraid he'd sounded anything but during the telephone call.

Chris had discussed his idea with Justin just two days ago. They knew each other from several auditions in the area, try outs for shows, for commercials. Chris was older, but full of energy and already working, performing daily in one of the amusement parks. He'd wanted to talk to Justin about putting together a singing group. Five part harmony. Thought of Justin right away. Had some other people in mind too, what did Justin think? Did Justin know anyone with a real strong voice, who might be interested?

He did. He hadn't even needed to look up the telephone number. Although it had taken him a whole day to work up the courage to dial it, it wasn't because he doubted Chris's plan or questioned his own enthusiastic acceptance of the idea. His intense desire to involve JC was a given, and not something he pondered too deeply. He'd dialed the number with shaking hands although he knew JC was out of the area, still in Nashville, still hadn't called him although it had been so many months now.

He had intended to simply leave a message, and he'd cleared his throat repeatedly as the telephone rang, praying it wouldn't crack, praying his desperate need would not be audible. Nothing prepared him for JC's casual "Hello?" as he picked up the telephone, and Justin's voice had failed him as his heart jumped into his throat, strangling him as he'd gaped in shock.

"Hello?" again, less friendly this time, and Justin had managed to stammer a hello in return, identify himself, apologize for dropping the telephone. The room spun, his ears roared, and his heart pounded so hard he could hardly take in JC's pleased greeting, his easy query as to what Justin was up to. He'd bounced in place as he blurted out the information about Chris, the vocal group, and he wasn't polished, he wasn't casual like he'd wanted to be, he wasn't selling the idea to JC like he was so desperate to do. He had sounded like a kid, a scattered, unfocused kid and he'd closed his eyes in self-loathing.

But JC was cautiously interested, would meet with Chris and Justin and see what was up. Tomorrow? Sure, should he pick Justin up? He'd cringed - JC still thought of him as a child, and who could blame him? No, no, that's okay, he would meet him downtown. Justin had had to sit down when he hung up the telephone, his breath short, his head pounding. Tomorrow.

When Chris called him later, he told him he hadn't yet gotten in touch with JC.

The ticking of his old alarm clock was suddenly loud in his quiet room, and he'd broken out into a light sweat just remembering the conversation. Had JC really been glad to hear from him? He'd seemed to be, but he hadn't called Justin, not in all these months. He frowned anxiously, tapping his fingers against the top of his dresser as the wind up clock continued to tick. With an effort he brought his mind back to the task at hand. He would bring the tapes, and maybe they could sit in JC's car and listen to them. After lunch. If JC was interested. The tapes would fit easily in the front pocket jacket, and there was a button there to keep them secure.

Would it be cool enough today for his jeans jacket? He was already sweating, he shouldn't be loaded down with a jacket too. He headed for the back kitchen door and stepped outside, waving his arms in the air and squinting up at the sky. It seemed chilly, like autumn had settled in for certain. Clouds skittered across the sky and he shivered a little, his bare feet cold and wet on the grass in their back yard. He really should check the newspaper for the weather forecast.

And a bus schedule. He needed to find that. He walked through the house and out the front door to look for the newspaper, hunting around until he found it lodged deeply in the juniper bushes by the walkway. The next door neighbor was watering her lawn, and she stared at him in astonishment. He realized that he was giving her quite an eyeful, stretched out over the bushes in his boxer shorts, reaching for the newspaper. He was blushing furiously as he darted back into the house, rubbing the goose bumps away from his bare arms. It was definitely cold enough for the jeans jacket.

He went back to the living room to get the jacket out of the hall closet. He scowled at it for a moment. It wasn't really clean. Showing up in dirty clothes was simply not an option. JC used to have fits when their MMC outfits weren't properly laundered. He'd been a notorious clean freak. Justin brushed at some dirt on the sleeve, a stain on the hem. Did he have time to wash it? He rubbed his forehead and tried to remember how long it took to do a load of laundry. He couldn't run the washing machine while taking a shower, the little house's water heater wouldn't allow it. Why hadn't he thought about this last night? His head spun for a moment and his stomach growled ferociously. He took a deep, calming breath and put the jacket back on its hanger. He'd think about this after he ate.

He caught sight of the mantel clock on his way to the kitchen. It informed him smugly that it was now past 9:00. Where was the time going? Shit, he hadn't found that bus schedule either, and where had he set the newspaper? It had been in his hand, just a minute ago. He looked blankly around the living room. No newspaper, but there were the tapes, sitting on the table. He sighed and took them back to his room, set them next to his sneakers. He'd never be ready in time if he didn't stop chasing his own tail.

He paused to take another deep, shuddering breath before heading back to the kitchen and pouring a bowl of cereal, trying to make a clear mental checklist of everything he wanted to accomplish before meeting with JC. The milk was cold and sitting in his boxers in the dim kitchen caused goose bumps to break out on his arms and legs. But he was breathing unevenly and his palms were slick with sweat.

He scooped up another spoonful of cereal and chewed mechanically, his mind going back to the last time he'd seen JC. It had been almost a year now.

He'd locked himself in the bathroom and cried when MMC was canceled. It hadn't been fun, necessarily, but after a year it had become what he knew best, and he was frightened that he'd never be on stage again. That he'd have to go back to Tennessee, back to a normal school with normal kids, back to being a freak. That he'd never see JC again.

The cancellation party had been surreal. All the shiny people pretending to be happy, though most of them were frightened like Justin. There was a sort of frantic, over-energetic gaiety in the room that made his mouth dry, that made the Kool Aid he'd drunk roll uneasily in his stomach. He brushed off the insincere good byes and I'll miss you's from his cast mates as he walked around the sound stage for the last time, his eyes searching the thinning crowd.

He found JC near the door, slipping his leather jacket on and getting ready to leave. He was standing close to a dark haired young man, a stranger, someone Justin dismissed before he really registered his presence. They were smiling, talking quietly to each other, but JC turned his bright blue eyes to Justin as he hesitated near him, smiled kindly, stepped away from the stranger. He did not introduce them.

"Hey, Justin. You about ready to give the finger to the mouse?" The grin was infectious, inviting, but Justin could barely stretch his lips in response. His gaze was fixed on JC's eyes, drinking in the intense blue light. His breath rasped in the back of his throat and sounded unnaturally loud in his ears. He struggled to compose himself.

"Yeah, I'm ready. Its all crap. On to bigger and better things, right?" It had humiliated him that his voice cracked right in the middle of this intelligent speech. He'd cleared his throat. "So, what are you gonna do?" He glanced lightning quick at JC's companion, standing patiently behind him and pretending not to listen. "I mean, do you have another job?"

JC's face crinkled in the smile. "Naw, nothing yet, but there's always stuff going on. Auditions, stuff like that. I'll find something." He glanced back at the stranger, and Justin wilted a little, feeling the loss. "What about you, Justin?"

And Justin had to tell him that he didn't have anything planned, that his Mom might be planning on them returning to Tennessee. He'd blushed when he brought up his mother, and JC had smiled kindly at him. Not like he had smiled at the stranger.

"I'm sure something will come along for you, man. You got the gift." He glanced again at the stranger, who smiled back at him, smiled slowly, his eyes intent on JC. JC's own smile widened, warmed, and Justin shivered a little, jamming his hands deep in his pockets and hunching his shoulders as he watched helplessly. JC's gaze swung back to him, blinding him.

"Listen, we'll keep in touch, okay? I'll give you a call, we can hang out." JC stepped forward, and before Justin could free his own hands he found himself clasped in JC's arms, JC's hand warm on the back of Justin's head, a brief, friendly hug that made him close his eyes and grind his teeth. It was over before Justin's scrambled brain could register JC's body against his, his cheek against his temple. JC stepped back, slapping him on the arm as he turned away, his eyes already focusing on the stranger, who watched Justin knowingly. And they were gone, leaving Justin to shiver helplessly in his youth, innocence, and the unspeakable possibility that he might be denied something he badly wanted.

He was startled out of this reverie by the sound of the shower in his mother's room being turned on, and he muttered an expletive she would've slapped him into next week for, had she heard. Now he'd have to wait until she was done before taking his own shower. He quickly gulped down the rest of his cereal and eyed the kitchen clock nervously. 9:40. He needed to be at the diner by noon. He looked around blankly. Where was that bus schedule?

He found the newspaper by the hall closet where he'd dropped it, and groaned in exasperation. He marched determinedly into the kitchen with the newspaper, opened it and examined the bus schedule. He needed to pick up the number 32 at the bus stop down the block by 11:10, and it should deliver him downtown by 11:45. Hopefully. He wasted another few minutes staring into space, fretting about the bus being late and JC giving up on him, walking out of the diner, writing Justin off forever. The panic galvanized him into action, and he bolted for his bathroom when he heard his mom's shower turn off.

The lack of hot water should have made him shower in record time, but he lost more minutes when he found himself humming a song from MMC. It had been the first song he'd been allowed to duet with JC on. He sang a few bars, testing the strength of his voice over the hiss of the shower water and remembering how well it had blended with JC's. JC, who almost always sang with his eyes closed, concentrating, but the first time they'd rehearsed the song he'd suddenly opened them, focusing unexpectedly on Justin as he'd come in on the first verse. His eyes had held Justin's as they moved to the chorus and he'd felt pinned by the intensity of JC's gaze, paralyzed and exhilarated, hot and cold. He had been dazed by the end of the song, had moved out of the sound booth and toward JC in a dream. Speechless and blind except for the light coming from JC's eyes, which were still fixed on him, wide and unblinking from across the room.

The hand on his arm had been an unwelcome shock. One of the producers, and he'd barely been able to focus on the man's voice, his whole being still caught by the magnet of JC's eyes. It had been the tone of his voice that finally sunk in, the warning about not singing to each other, to concentrate on the audience. JC had dropped his eyes, his cheeks red, and Justin had looked away.

The shower water was now icy cold and he hurried to finish. He studied himself carefully in the mirror as he dried off. He'd grown more than two inches in the last year, but he was still skinny despite the pushups and sit ups he did every night. He grimaced in despair at his too long arms and out of control hair, the acne at his temple, and it was 10:45 by the time he started to get dressed.

The t shirt he'd decided on was on top of his bureau and clean, thank god. It was an older t-shirt in his favorite shade of blue. His mom said it brought out the color of his eyes and it was soft and thin, clinging to the newly lengthened muscles of his torso. He smoothed it over his stomach and examined himself anxiously in the mirror. Was it too small? He swung his arms, experimentally, eyeing the way the shirt pulled across his shoulders. It was a little tight, and a little short. It wouldn't stay tucked into his jeans, and if he shrugged the skin of his waist peeked through. He stared at himself in the mirror, motionless, breath shallow and eyes wide. His hand slid over the shirt and down his waist again, slowly, and he remembered the way JC had smiled at the stranger.

He left the shirt on.

He was dressed and out the door at a few minutes after 11:00, avoiding his mother's concerned eyes and perceptive questions. She had to know there was more to this than a simple trip to the mall, but he dodged her and bolted out the door. He hustled down the sidewalk and around the corner, making it to the bus stop with several minutes to spare. Breathing quickly, he mentally checked that he had his wallet, that the tapes were secure in his jacket pocket. He jingled the bus tokens in his hand and battled the urge to look at his watch again. As the bus pulled up he checked his reflection in the window, reassured to see calm looking back at him.

~ ~ ~ ~

The bus was on time but JC was already there, leaning easily against the wall outside the small diner, relaxing like a cat in the sun. Justin was relieved that he had a full block to walk before JC caught sight of him, time to take some deep breaths and rearrange his face, time to prepare his careful slouch and ready a casual smile.

JC had changed very little. His dark hair was shorter and his shoulders seemed broader, but the warm smile, the electric blue eyes were the same. He greeted Justin with a hug and Justin had rehearsed this moment in his mind too many times not to be ready for it. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, his nose close to JC's neck, and he smelled the same too. It was impossible to keep his hand from lingering on JC's waist, and Justin felt his game face slip as JC pulled away, brushing a hand over his curls and exclaiming over his new height.

But he acquitted himself admirably as they exchanged news and updated each other on their lives. Justin felt JC's gaze on his face as he examined the menu, measuring the changes the last year had brought, and he took care to make his expression relaxed. He met JC's eyes levelly and smiled slowly, pausing before beginning to tell him about Chris, and the idea of the vocal group. Poise and confidence were nothing new to him when performing. He could be persuasive, and he fought to keep his elation under control as JC's attention was captured. JC had a game face of his own but he could tell by his eyes, sharper, bluer, that he was interested. It was going to happen. He would sing with JC again.

And after the meal, when he leaned back in the booth and stretched, he watched JC's eyes drop to the place where Justin's shirt didn't quite meet the top of his jeans and linger there. And Justin felt a surge of exhilaration, knowing that someday soon he would have everything he wanted.

~ End

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Jess for supah betah skills. :)
> 
> Story originally posted on Kaelie's Ghetto Page on November 4, 2001.


End file.
